


Coalescence

by venis_envy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-11
Updated: 2012-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-29 08:43:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venis_envy/pseuds/venis_envy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Post-war Hogwarts. HPDM. Series compliant up to the chapter titled Sectumsempra (we all know this one) at which point I have taken a very AU turn. Not everything changes, but one small thing can make a very big difference. Written as a contribution to Fandom Against Domestic Violence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coalescence

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: (Given by evieeden as a way of killing my writer’s block) Owlery, midnight blue, enchanted snow globe, and warm. She also made the banner that goes with this.
> 
> Mostly fluff and smut, because, as Julie Andrews (& rmhale) would say, “these are a few of my FAAAAVORITE things.” Many thanks to buhbeesgirl for putting this FADV compilation together to raise money for such an important cause.
> 
> Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling, Warner Brothers, Scholastic, and a whole slew of other lucky bastards who aren't me.
> 
> Warnings: Series compliant up to the bathroom scene in sixth year (HBP) and then a major AU twist from that point on. Also, lots of boysex.

~ Ƹ̵̡ Ӝ ̵̨̄ Ʒ ~

Harry wakes from his nightmare with a start. The sun is shining brightly through the opening in his bed curtains and he scrubs at his eyes, relieved to find that it is Saturday morning, and that he is, in fact, at school and not in the dark and fearful place of his dreams.

Realising he has overslept, he casts  _scourgify_  over himself before dressing quickly. It’s the first almost-warm morning since the snow began to melt from the grounds around Hogwarts. Spring brings fresh blooms on the trees and whispers of excitement on the lips of every student. Of course, the fact that it’s also a Hogsmeade weekend plays part in everyone’s lifted spirits. These particular weekends are also greatly anticipated by Harry, but for different reasons entirely.

Grabbing his invisibility cloak and Marauder’s Map from his trunk, Harry sets off down to the common room of Gryffindor tower. Hermione and Ron have come a long way in accepting his relationship with Draco, after many long months of fighting, accusations and mistrust followed by weeks of silence between the three of them. Hermione, usually the voice of reason, was even too angry to talk to Harry, though he later came to realise that it was more due to the fact that she hadn’t seen it coming than the idea that he was with their long-time enemy.

Harry taps the tip of his wand to the Marauder’s Map and scans the parchment for signs of movement. Most of the first and second year students are outside enjoying the weather, and those who aren’t are buried up to their ears in homework down in the library. Aside from the younger students, all is still but for a few sets of footprints. One in the dungeon labelled Argus Filch _,_ ProfessorMcGonagall in her office, and the one Harry is mostly seeking out, Draco Malfoy, in the owlery, just as he is every Saturday morning after he leaves the Great Hall. Harry’s stomach rumbles when he realises he’s slept through breakfast. Ron and Hermione have learned that Harry’s Saturdays belong to Draco, so they typically don’t even wait before heading out of the common room to begin their day. Harry doesn’t want to waste a single second of his free time with Draco, so he decides he’ll be fine waiting for lunch.

Slipping out into the corridor, he drapes his invisibility cloak over himself and sets off out of the castle. It isn’t as though he really even needs it. Most of their friends know about the two of them, and even the faculty members are aware of their relationship. Ever since that day two years ago when Harry had overheard Draco talking to Moaning Myrtle in the sixth floor bathroom, the two of them had been nearly inseparable.

It took Harry a great long while to convince Draco that they could help him, that the Order of the Phoenix had the ability to protect his family. Once Dumbledore and the others had taken Draco’s parents to a safe spot, Voldemort’s plan to infiltrate Hogwarts was thwarted. Who knows what would have happened that night if Draco hadn’t finally reached the end of his rope, if he wasn’t so desperate for help that he actually opened up to the one person he had supposedly hated all those years? Who knows how many students would have died if the Death Eaters had been able to get through that cabinet Draco had been instructed to repair?

The war eventually did take place, just as everyone knew it would. People fought, friends died, things were destroyed that would never be rebuilt, but Hogwarts was not one of them. It remained, as Dumbledore had wished, a safe place for the students to come, even in the aftermath of the turmoil. With the help of his friends, Harry was able to find all the horcruxes and ultimately destroy Voldemort once and for all. Had it not been for Ron’s loyalty and courage, Hermione’s determination and quick thinking, and Draco’s extensive knowledge of wizarding history and dark magic, Voldemort would have certainly prevailed. The Wizarding world viewed all four of them as heroes, though none of them saw what they had done as anything more than necessity.

It wasn’t required of them to go back to school and finish their N.E.W.T.s, but they all chose to do so anyway. They wanted to make up for that which they missed out on during the war. Harry felt that, with how much education had meant to Professor Dumbledore, it was the least he could do to honour his memory. And besides, Harry had never felt more at home anywhere in the world than he did at Hogwarts.

He creeps quietly up to the top of the tower, rustling wings and hooting owls covering any small noises he might be making. Pausing at the doorway, Harry takes a moment to admire the man across from him, and Draco is very much a man now rather than the boy Harry had known and disliked all too recently. Draco leans casually against a pillar, looking out over the grounds. His golden hair catches the sun, causing it to shine brilliantly like delicately spun spider webs and Harry feels his fingers twitch in an unconscious effort to reach out and touch as he approaches. The midnight blue colour of Draco's shirt should, by all reason, make his eyes darker, bluer, but somehow they are the opposite, a light shade of grey that matches the very few clouds on the horizon.

“Take off the cloak, Potter. I know you’re here,” Draco says smoothly.

Harry smiles as he slides the cloak off his shoulders and tosses it back toward the top step with his map, far away from straw and owl droppings. “Were you counting down the minutes until you’d see me again, or was I actually making that much noise?”

“Both,” Draco answers as he turns to greet Harry with a slow smile and moist kiss. “I may have had help,” he adds.

“Help in knowing that I was on my way?” Harry asks as Draco lifts a glass ball up between them. It is a snow globe with a tiny replica of Hogsmeade, small houses and shops lining a narrow street full of people walking and holding hands. “What’s this?”

“You think your father and his friends were the only clever ones?” Draco shakes the snow globe upside down and as he tilts it back, the tiny flakes swirl about and dance slowly to the bottom. Harry peers closely as the figures inside the glass ball begin to change forms. A small village becomes a tall tower that Harry recognises to be the owlery, and strolling students become...

“Is that us?” Harry asks, tilting his head for a better look. As he does so, the tiny Harry-figure inside the globe tilts his head as well.

As if to clarify, Draco reaches his hand up, brushing the back of his fingers down Harry’s cheek as Harry watches the snow globe miniature mirror his lover’s actions.

“It’s enchanted to show both Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. All I have to do is let it know who I’m looking for, and give it a shake.”

“Seems to be a gross violation of one’s privacy,” Harry says, half-joking.

“I don’t watch you wank, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Draco responds with a wicked smile.

“I don’t have any need to do that, anyway.” Harry shoots Draco his own devious grin.

 All jest aside, Draco quickly writes out a letter to his mother, just as he does every week, letting her know that he is well. He ties it to the leg of his owl before sending her on her way.

Harry watches with interest as Draco leans against the pillar once more, crossing his arms over his chest as his eyes rake up and down Harry's body with languid ease.

After a moment, Draco reaches his hand out and Harry accepts it gratefully as he is pulled close. Harry wraps his arms around Draco and buries his face against his smooth, pale neck. In the interest of not making anyone uncomfortable, the two of them usually refrain from much physical contact during the school week while they are surrounded by their peers and the watchful eyes of the professors, but on Saturdays, the rest of the world melts away. It's skin and hands and mouths and not even necessarily sex, but intimacy and closeness that they crave from one another. What started in a tent in the Forest of Dean with a need to feel something other than helplessness and hurt, the need for comfort and to feel a heart beating strong and alive in rhythm with his own became something so much more once the war was over. Desperate need brought them together, but unrelenting love has kept them over time.

"What's wrong?" Draco asks as he pulls back slightly to look into Harry's eyes.

Harry shakes his head, determined not to speak of the horrid nightmare that he has relived so often since the war. The nightmare of Voldemort torturing and killing Draco for his betrayal as Harry watches, unable to move, unable to stop him.

Harry pulls Draco close, answering his question with a deep, needful kiss that seems to last all at once forever and somehow not nearly long enough.

Draco has never been one to express his emotions through words very often, but Harry finds the things he doesn't say to be just as important and meaningful as the words he chooses to speak. His hot breath on Harry's lips, pale fingers tangled into dark hair, the way his other hand presses flat to Harry's back holding him as close as possible, the warm slide of his tongue all say that he loves Harry, that he isn't going anywhere, that he understands this unspoken fear.

"What can I do?" Draco whispers against Harry's lips.

By no small miracle, Harry is able to break contact, pulling away to take Draco's hand and lace their fingers together. He tugs him toward the stairs, another silent answer to his lover's question. Harry wraps the Marauder's Map and Draco's enchanted snow globe in his cloak to carry back undetected.

As they make their way back to the school, Draco rolls his sleeves up to his elbows before taking Harry's hand again, their fingers linked, forearms pressed together, the marked skin of Draco's against the smooth, tan skin of Harry's. The contrast says everything about how different they are—how different they should be—yet it’s a false impression and further proof that appearance means nothing. They are so alike, and equally important to one another. Harry smiles. It's as much contact as is possible in the open day as they pass by several other students, but it's enough. For now.

As they walk through the front doors, Harry attempts to pull Draco toward the stairs to Gryffindor tower. He needs the connection and reassurance that he can only find right now in the press of their bodies and the slide of skin. Yes, Harry knows exactly what it is that he needs but, as usual, Draco thinks he knows better, and rather than taking Harry one dorm or the other, Draco tugs him along down into the kitchen where he calls for Kreacher and instructs him to bring Harry sausage and toast.

"You missed breakfast," he says by way of explanation.

"I could have waited until lunch," Harry replies, slightly off-put by the idea of postponing his intended activities.

"Maybe I plan to keep you busy throughout the afternoon."

~*~

"Tell me," he says as they sit in the silence of Harry's dorm room a half hour later. Harry leans his back against the headboard of his bed, his knees drawn up as Draco kneels between them watching Harry with rapt attention.

"It was just that dream again," he replies and Draco nods, moving to lean over Harry.

"It  _will_  get better," Draco assures him as he brushes his lips along Harry's neck.

Draco has always told Harry that, with time, the nightmares will fade. Harry is sure he's right. After all, they are certainly fewer and farther between now than they were during, or even right after the war. Still though, he can't wait for the day they leave Hogwarts together and aren't expected to part ways every evening. Draco always tells Harry that the reason he's having that same dream is due in part, of course, to the trauma of the war and partly because, after all the months they had spent during that time, pressed together throughout the night with their hearts beating as one, it was difficult for either of them to sleep without the constant assurance that the other was still there, still all right and whole.

Harry reasons that this must be true, since every time they  _were_  able to get away with staying together throughout the night since returning to Hogwarts, Harry has slept soundly without a hitch.

Harry takes Draco's hand from the place it rests upon his knee and brings it to his lips, kissing his open palm and dragging teeth against the pale skin of his wrist. His tongue touches the pulse point before nipping at the skin there as well and Draco quickly pulls his hand away, replacing it with his own lips against Harry's. Their mouths move together, hot and soft and moist, and all at once it isn't enough. Harry needs more, now. He leans forward, reaching for the buttons of Draco's shirt and with each one unfastened, he places a kiss upon the newly exposed skin of his chest. A soft moan escapes Draco when Harry stops halfway down and finishes the task with his hands alone as he trails his tongue back up to Draco's throat. He pauses for only a moment to grab his wand from a pillow beside them and casts several strong privacy spells on the curtains surrounding the bed.

"Just in case," he says before casting  _Lumos_ and discarding his wand on the bed somewhere. His fingers brush the shirt from Draco’s shoulders, and slide it down his arms to dispose of that as well. They’re bathed in soft blue wandlight that casts shadows, emphasising Draco’s toned stomach and arms. Harry has never seen a sight quite as perfect as that of Draco Malfoy naked, his smooth, hard chest rising and falling with each heavy breath as he moves to reposition them. Draco twists his fingers into the hem of Harry's shirt, pulling it up and off of him before gently pushing him to lie back.

Not wanting to put a single inch of space between them, Harry tries to pull Draco down with him, but Draco maintains his kneeling position.

"Wait," he whispers as his eyes traverse Harry's body again and Harry thinks he would probably lie in wait on a bed of nails for the better part of eternity if Draco asked him to, so long as he was able to spend the remaining part with this man that he loves.

Draco's hands follow the path of his eyes, gently ghosting over Harry's chest and stomach before finding the button of his trousers. His fingers tease as he drags them slowly along the edge of Harry’s waistband, grazing the sensitive skin there and causing Harry to groan. Harry watches in amusement as a slow smile spreads across Draco’s face. He glances up finally, meeting Harry’s eyes and Harry can see so much in the depths of that one gaze that it causes a ripple of longing and affection to pass through him. Draco unfastens the button of Harry’s trousers and slides down the zip, all the while holding Harry’s gaze with his own. His fingers slide into Harry’s trousers, barely grazing his cock before he pulls them away again.

It would certainly be faster for Harry to pick up his wand and just vanish all of their clothing, but he thinks perhaps Draco needs this part, undressing Harry slowly and carefully, touching each part of him as he communicates with his hands and eyes just how deeply he loves him. And of course Harry will allow him that if that is what he needs.

Slowly, Draco drags his dull fingernails from the waistband of Harry's trousers up the centre of his stomach, chest, throat, gripping Harry's jaw gently and turning his head to the side. Draco leans over him, kissing his neck before whispering hotly into his ear.

"What do you want?" His tongue pursues the breath from his words, tracing along the edge of Harry’s ear and Harry feels himself melting into the mattress a bit. It feels as though every nerve ending is exposed and Draco’s warm breath is setting Harry’s body ablaze with desire. He opens his mouth to answer but decides that perhaps words would not suffice and instead wraps one leg around Draco's waist, pulling him closer as he turns for a kiss.

Fingers press into Draco's back as Harry holds him close, not wanting to let him go. He can feel Draco's hardness against his own through their trousers and Harry arches slightly, in need of more friction. Draco nods in understanding, his tongue tracing along Harry's bottom lip before kissing him again and then moving to sit up. Harry's fingers scramble for purchase as he tries to hold Draco's warm body against his. A look of disappointment must have been written clearly on his face.

Draco chuckles softly. "I just need to take these off," he says as he unfastens the button of his own trousers now. Harry's fingers twitch toward his wand again and he aches to use it.

"Go ahead," Draco says, knowing exactly what it is he wants to do, and it's all the permission Harry needs.

In seconds their clothes are all off and Harry is pulling Draco down on top of him once again, moaning at the divine sensation of Draco’s smooth, hard body against his own. They kiss with the intensity of reunited lovers that have been apart for months rather than days. It’s fervent and urgent and still just not enough.

Harry tangles his fingers into Draco’s hair as he shifts his hips, relishing in the warm slide of skin on skin. He wishes every day could be Saturday with Draco, or just that every day could be this. Them, together, hands and mouths and heartbeats.

Draco dips his head down to lick and suck at Harry’s nipple and Harry writhes beneath him as his fingers twist more tightly into soft blond strands. He’s sure he has never been so overwhelmed with emotion before. In the two years that he has known, really  _known,_ and loved Draco, he has had no shortness of affection for him. The emotional connection twists within him like deep roots that fill all the empty spaces. But this time feels different, and whether it’s the residual distress of the nightmare, or the fact that they are so close to leaving Hogwarts and beginning their piece of forever together, Harry cannot say.

Draco moves back up, dragging his lips along Harry’s jaw before their mouths finally meet. Harry sighs into the kiss as the sweet flavour of Draco’s tongue assails his senses. He moves his hand from Draco’s hair, feeling around under his pillow until he finds the small phial of oil. Draco reaches down between their bodies, taking both his hard cock and Harry’s in his hand and gripping as tightly as he can at such an awkward angle. Holding them together with delicious pressure, he moves his hand and hips at once as he swallows Harry’s low, broken moans with deep, messy kisses.

Harry can wait no longer. He pressed the phial to Draco’s chest as he pushes him up. He isn’t exactly coherent enough to find the words for what he wants, but the look in Draco’s steel-grey eyes confirms that he doesn’t need them.

Draco accepts the phial, uncorking it and pouring some of the oil out onto his hand. His gaze moves over Harry’s body again in a way that makes Harry’s cock even harder, throbbing with need. A slick finger presses against his entrance while Draco’s other hand rests flat against Harry’s stomach and all he can think is  _now_ and  _please._ His breath hitches as Draco pushes inside slowly, carefully. Harry knows he isn’t prepared for Draco’s cock yet, but as his body adjusts to the feeling of being filled he still can’t help but want more. He watches Draco’s mouth with rapt attention as his tongue peeks out to moisten his lower lip. A lip that Harry would very much like to taste right now. He raises his knee, asking for more without actually saying it, and delighting in the spark that flits through Draco’s eyes as he adds another finger and watches them move in and out of Harry. The tenderness with which Draco touches Harry never ceases to astound him. He's achingly beautiful, wandlight illuminating his pale skin as his hair falls in front of his eyes.

The agonisingly slow pace that Draco sets has Harry nearly trembling with barely-restrained want. His own fingers twist into his bed sheets as he fights the urge to reach down and touch himself.  Draco must see this, because as soon as Harry finishes the thought, long fingers wrap around his length, stroking in time with the fingers inside him. Too soon he feels warmth pooling low in his belly and he has to reach down to stop Draco’s movements.

Draco smiles smugly as he gazes down at Harry, who is flushed and breathless and watching Draco as he slides his slick hand up and down his own cock now before lining himself up at Harry’s entrance. Shifting his hips, Draco pushes into Harry slowly, his eyes fluttering closed as he does so. It’s a small thing that Draco refuses to believe he does, but Harry notices every time. It’s open pleasure and somehow even vulnerability playing across his beautiful features and Harry knows he will never tire of seeing it.

Cool grey eyes snap open and meet Harry’s in challenge as if Draco thinks Harry might call him on what he’s just done. Harry simply smiles in response, grabbing Draco by the wrist and coaxing him down into a tender kiss, tongues sliding smoothly between parted lips.

An uninhibited moan escapes Harry at the exquisite pressure of being stretched and filled. He matches each of Draco’s thrusts with a shift of his own hips, pushing up to take Draco’s cock deeper. Draco groans against Harry’s sweat-dampened neck as his lips and teeth pay careful attention to the skin there. He strokes long and hard as he shifts his hips, searching for the right angle.

“Where?” he whispers against Harry’s lips moments later, but Harry can’t answer him even if he wants to. It all feels so good, every movement Draco makes, hard and needful, slow and languorous. Harry can tell that Draco is also teetering on the edge of control as he grips Harry's hips with bruising strength.

Finally, Harry reaches between them, taking his own throbbing cock in his fist as his other hand circles around the back of Draco’s neck, pulling him down for another mind-fogging kiss that he pours unashamed dedication into. Harry's back arches off the bed as Draco  _does_  find that spot, fast, delicious strokes pulling at Harry's restraint. He can no longer hold off the coiling sensation that builds deep within him as he strokes himself in rhythm with Draco’s thrusts, and it feels altogether too damn good to try.

Harry exhales a shaky breath seconds before his release is pounding through him with blinding intensity, spilling out onto his stomach and Draco's as their bodies continue to move together. Harry's mind is nearly incapacitated from the blissful ecstasy of his release and he's barely able to register Draco's words of affection as he slams against Harry, spilling into him. His teeth graze Harry's shoulder as Harry wraps his arms around him, still unwilling to allow any space between them even after the overwhelming satisfaction of the physical and emotional bond they've just shared.

Draco collapses on top of Harry, his full weight pressing warm and heavy against the length of Harry’s body.

"They'll all be back soon," Draco mumbles against Harry's chest some time later.

"Privacy spells," Harry murmurs, kissing the top of Draco's head as he reaches for the corner of his bedclothes. Tossing a blanket over them both, he rolls them to their sides, cocooning them in the soft warmth.

"Plan on keeping me here all day then?" Draco asks, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses across Harry's chest and neck.

"Mmm," replies Harry as he tightens his arms around Draco. "For the next four weeks, actually."

"Sounds perfect. What will we do with those enchanted trinkets once we leave this place and have no need for them?" Draco asks sleepily.

"I imagine I'll keep mine, since it shows very nonspecific footprints with name labels. Yours on the other hand, we should probably toss down from the top of the Astronomy tower."

Draco snorts with laughter, his breath hot against Harry's skin. "I never used it like that, you know...to watch you or anyone else," he says once his laughter has died down. "Only to see where Filch was hiding while I was on my way to see you...and to check on you occasionally."

Harry feels a warmth pass through him at Draco's admission of concern. He presses another kiss to the top of his head.

"I suppose I should use it to see you while you're sleeping so that I know when you need me."

"I always need you," Harry whispers in response.

Draco stretches up, taking Harry's mouth in a slow, sweet kiss that seems to last most of the afternoon and certainly chases away any lingering doubt of what is real and what is a dream. In just four weeks, school will be over for them and Harry and Draco will begin their lifetime of Saturdays together.  
~Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ~  



End file.
